Survivors: Sweet's Journey Read online

  Fiery paused to look over his shoulder. “Beta. I didn’t know you were joining us.”

  “I’m not,” growled the red dog. “I want to see how Sweetie manages a hunt.”

  Sweet ground her jaws together, hanging on to her temper. She knew Beta was waiting for her to fail at something—longing for it, in fact—and she’d gloat for days if Sweet failed to catch the deer now. The sneakiness of the red dog riled her so much, she could feel her muscles quiver beneath her skin—and that wouldn’t help her to keep cool and calm for the hunt.

  Drawing herself up, Sweet ignored Beta and turned to Fiery. “Are you ready?”

  Fiery inclined his massive head. “If you think we can do it.”

  “I know we can.” Sweet could sense Beta almost twitching with irritation. The red dog had been furious, Sweet knew, when Alpha had promoted her to hunter. If they didn’t make this kill, she was certain that the tale of her failure would make its swift way to Alpha’s ears. Deep in her throat, Sweet growled softly. Failure was not an option now.

  “Fiery, if you circle the edge of the forest there, you’ll force the deer toward me. Don’t rush it, all right? Just walk in step with it; don’t let it escape past you. I’ll do the rest.”

  The big dog nodded. Without another word, to Sweet or to Beta, he padded off in a wide flanking movement. Crouching lower, watching silently, Sweet saw the deer’s head come up in alarm. Taking no more notice of Beta, Sweet began to lope carefully forward.

  The deer was upwind of her, and it was focused on the huge shadow of Fiery, slipping through the tree trunks to its left. It sprang forward, then hesitated, doubled back, and began to trot deeper into the trees. Again it stopped, scanning the forest, but its only concern was the threat of Fiery.

  Sweet moved smoothly and silently, a lean shadow, her long legs delicately finding the best path through the leafy undergrowth. Ahead of her the deer jerked to the side, uncertain now. Its eyes were huge.

  Finally panicking, the deer leaped into a run, bolting across Sweet’s path. But she was close enough now. As she sprinted to intercept it, it skidded to a halt, panicked into indecision. Sweet had only an instant, and she took it, springing and seizing the creature’s throat, then hanging grimly on as Fiery plunged through the bushes to join her.

  When the deer flopped limp beneath them, its kicking legs finally going still, Fiery drew back, panting. “We did it!”

  “I told you we could,” said Sweet quietly.

  No need for noisy bragging, she thought with satisfaction. I’ve proved myself to Fiery—and in front of Beta!

  Between them, she and Fiery hauled the deer’s carcass back through the trees to the camp. It wasn’t an easy job, thought Sweet, with her skinny legs and narrow jaws, but she had Fiery’s powerful help even if she didn’t have Beta’s. She disappeared fast, thought Sweet bitterly, when I made the kill and there was prey to drag.

  Beta continued to linger on the edges of the camp, glowering resentfully, while the rest of the Pack members gathered excitedly around the deer, barking and whining their pleasure. The dogs parted, though, when Alpha padded forward, sniffing appreciatively at the scent of dead prey.

  “A fine catch.” The half wolf nodded, growling with approval. “The best this Pack’s ever had, in fact.” He shot his contemptuous yellow gaze at Beta, still lurking on the fringes of the group, and the red dog turned and slunk into the shadows.

  Sweet expected Alpha to say something to her directly, but all he did was turn on his paw and saunter back toward his den. She furrowed her brow curiously. What is Alpha playing at?

  She had no time to worry about it, though. Fiery was busily retelling the story of the deer over and over again, to any dog who would listen.

  “I tell you, I’d never have thought of it,” he was saying to Snap. “Sweet was unbelievably fast. And smart!”

  “I can’t believe you caught an actual deer!” a young dog called Dart butted in breathlessly.

  “Catch the deer? It never had a chance!” guffawed Fiery. “Not with Sweet on its tail.”

  “We’ll have deer every day!” yelped another youngster, Twitch. “We’ll never be hungry again!”

  “You’ll get even fatter,” teased his sister, Spring.

  Alpha stuck his head out of his den at that, glaring at the younger dogs. “It’s a fine catch, and I said so,” he growled, quieting every dog with his stare. “But don’t get too comfortable. There won’t always be stray deer in the forest, and even Sweet might not be able to catch them all the time.”

  He gave Sweet a cool glance that she couldn’t quite read. What was that in the Alpha’s yellow eyes, she wondered . . . a challenge? Was he trying to goad her into catching prey like that every day? Did he think she was that desperate to impress him? Sweet looked away, her fur prickling with irritation.

  “How did you get to be so fast?” Spring yelped at her side.

  “Yes, tell us about swift-dogs,” added Dart. “How come your legs are so long and thin?”

  Distracted from her annoyance with Alpha, Sweet laughed. “All right, I’ll tell you where the swift-dogs came from.”

  Dart and Spring sat expectantly on their haunches while a few more of the Pack members gathered around. “Go on, then,” said Snap, cocking an ear. “I want to hear this too.”

  “You’ve heard of the Fastest Hare?” asked Sweet, looking from dog to dog as more of the Pack sat down. “He was the worst trickster in the world. He was always playing jokes on the Spirit Dogs, and making them look like fools, and they grew very angry with him. Hares were made for dogs to chase, and no hare should get away with such insolence!

  “Well, one day the Alpha of the Wind-Dogs was running through the golden meadow of the sky, and beneath her she saw the Fastest Hare keeping pace with her. As she watched him in surprise, he looked up at her and winked his yellow eye, and smirked. And then he sped up, till he was running so fast he outpaced even the Wind-Dog.

  “The Alpha Wind-Dog was enraged. She went to the Sky-Dogs and demanded the Hare be punished for his impudence. So the Sky-Dogs and Wind-Dogs leaped down to the earth and surrounded the Hare, and demanded he put an end to his tricks. But the Hare just laughed at them, and ran between their legs, teasing them. ‘I’m the Fastest Hare,’ he laughed, ‘and there’s nothing you can do. My legs are the longest legs of all the animals, and I’m thin and narrow and I cut through the air. No one can catch me!’

  “Then the Alpha Wind-Dog said, ‘Sky-Dogs! You’ve seen for yourselves how the Hare taunts me! Give me legs that are longer than the Hare’s. Give me and all my children the longest legs, and make us thin and narrow so that we cut through the air even faster than that trickster!’

  “The Sky-Dogs knew that as long as the Hare had the longest legs, he would never give them the proper respect. So they agreed to the Alpha Wind-Dog’s request. They made her legs longer than the Hare’s, and they made her body even thinner and narrower than his. And the next time the Hare challenged the Wind-Dog, she ran him down! She pounced, and held him in her jaws and said, ‘Now you must run from me and from all my children, because we will never stop till we catch you.’

  “And the Fastest Hare realized he was beaten. He begged the Alpha Wind-Dog’s mercy and was humbled. From that day on, all of his children had to run from the family of the Wind-Dogs.”

  Sweet sat back happily, her tongue lolling, and basked in the admiring stares of the other Pack members.

  “Wow,” said Spring. “I haven’t heard that story before.”

  “You haven’t heard it,” sneered a familiar voice, “because Sweetie made it up. There’re no such Spirit Dogs as the Wind-Dogs! I’ve never heard such nonsense.”

  Sweet stared coolly at Beta as the red dog slunk into the circle. For once, her belly didn’t twist with anger. You can’t provoke me now, Beta, she thought, any more than the Fastest Hare can taunt the Alpha Wind-Dog. I’m part of this Pack, and these dogs know it.

  Contented, she glanced around at th
e others, waiting for one of them to speak up, to confirm the truth of her story.

  But all her Packmates did was exchange nervous glances, or stare at the forest floor. Sweet’s eyes widened as the silence stretched. She shot a look at Fiery, but even he was avoiding her eyes. He licked a paw, and made a rumbling sound in his throat, and scratched his ear.

  Sweet felt as if there was a stone in her belly. It’s this Pack, she realized. This Pack, and its rigid rules. They’ll complain about how mean Beta is, but only in private. They’ll never contradict her, or tell her she’s wrong. . . .

  With a heavy heart, Sweet lay down and stretched out her forepaws, pretending nonchalance, but her mind was in turmoil.

  Did I make the wrong decision, joining this Pack? Was all the effort worth it?

  But what was the alternative?

  To be all alone in a changed, broken, empty world . . .

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sweet had too much time the next morning to gnaw at her worries, turning them over and over in her skull. She’d been detailed to the sunup corner of the camp and told to keep watch for a group of strange dogs, strays that had been scented but never fully seen. Alpha was so concerned, he’d told the hunters to join the patrol dogs for now, making sure the camp was fully guarded.

  “We have to be particularly vigilant,” Alpha had told her. “I’m relying on you, Sweet.”

  And she had kept a close watch on every shadow and every movement in the forest, but that didn’t provide enough distraction from her worries about her place in the Pack. Will I ever really fit in here? It’s so different from my swift-dog Pack. What was that sound—a snapping twig? I wonder if Beta will ever soften her opinion of me. . . .

  A high, agonized howl shattered Sweet’s thoughts, sending her leaping to her paws. Despite the awfulness of the sound, she recognized the voice.

  Moon!

  Fiery’s mate must be about to give birth to her pups, Sweet realized as she raced back to the camp. But something must be wrong for her to cry out like that—

  Sure enough, when Sweet broke out of the trees, she saw Moon lying on her flank, legs stiff and twitching, her muzzle twisted in pain. Other dogs were milling around her, looking worried, but scared to go closer.

  Sweet pushed through their bodies. “Somebody has to get Fiery!” she barked.

  “He’s out on patrol,” growled Spring nervously. “Hold on, Moon! It’ll be over soon.”

  “He’ll want to be here, especially when Moon’s in pain,” said Sweet urgently.

  “Well, you’re the fastest,” Twitch pointed out. He had a lame leg himself—it had been like that since he was a pup—and he nudged it now with his muzzle, as if to point out the hopelessness of sending him.

  “But I’m on guard!” Sweet looked desperately at the other dogs as Moon gave a series of yips, full of pain.

  To her surprise, Beta trotted to her side. “I’ll cover your area,” she growled. “Twitch is right, you’ll get to Fiery quickest. Go on, I’ll take your place.”

  Sweet had no time to express her shock—or her gratitude. Beta’s words made all her worries crumble away like a sandbank in a drought. If the red dog could put aside their differences for the good of all dogs, it seemed this was a true Pack after all. Sweet gave Beta a brief relieved nod, turned, and bolted out of the clearing.

  Fiery’s scent was not hard to pick up; when Sweet followed the usual patrol trail, she caught his odor in her nostrils straightaway. He’d been here only minutes before, she realized, leaping a fallen log and darting on. Through the next line of trees lay a broad meadow, and in the full light of the morning sun she could make out the shapes of the patrol on the low horizon. Sweet raced to catch up.

  “Fiery!” she barked, her tongue lolling as she panted. “Fiery!”

  The lead patrol dog turned. He must have realized it was important, because he turned and trotted rapidly back toward Sweet, and she slithered to a stop on the meadow grass, gasping.

  “Moon’s pup-time has come. She needs you!”

  He barely hesitated. “Thank you,” he growled, then bounded off toward the forest, astonishingly fleet for such a huge dog. Sweet followed at his heels while the rest of the patrol stared after them.

  Sweet caught up with Fiery as they reached the edge of the trees, though it struck her that few other dogs would have been able to match his desperate speed. She let him lead the way through the undergrowth, his bulk smashing twigs and leafy branches aside, and it seemed only moments until they reached the camp’s border.

  Sweet trotted to a halt, stiff-legged and shocked. Fiery stalked forward more slowly now, snarling.

  Snap stood there, her back to the camp and her muzzle peeled back, facing down a pair of hungry coyotes.

  “What . . . ? How in the name of the Earth-Dog did they get in?” barked Fiery, as the coyotes twisted to face the new threat.

  Sweet’s heart lurched. This was the section of the camp border she’d been guarding!

  Fiery clearly had no time for fighting coyotes. He gave a deep, baying howl of anger, and the scrawny creatures, seeing instantly that they were outnumbered, panicked. Slipping and slithering, they almost fell over themselves as they fled the camp.

  Fiery didn’t give chase, but plunged straight on toward his and Moon’s den, where the yaps and howls of pain were still high and frantic. Snap rounded on Sweet.

  “Where were you?” she barked.

  Sweet licked her chops, confused and afraid. “I—I had to fetch Fiery! I thought Beta was patrolling this area! She said—she told me she’d cover for me.” Her ears drooped as her breathing calmed at last. “Something must have happened. She must have been called away, Snap. I—”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” grunted Snap through clenched jaws. She was still getting her own breath back after the panic. “No harm done, in the end. Just as well I was here, though. With Alpha away on patrol, and everyone distracted by Moon’s pup-time.”

  “How is she?” begged Sweet, craning her head to peer toward the noise from Moon’s den.

  “I don’t know.” Snap glanced grimly over her shoulder. “There’s obviously a problem. She was in pain, and—ah!”

  The sudden quietness was oppressive. Snap and Sweet stared at each other, and Sweet knew the hunt-dog felt the same sudden, awful fear as she did.

  Then Fiery broke the silence with a howl of joy. His deep voice was joined by Moon’s, feebler, but filled with relief and happiness.

  Snap’s ears pricked up. “The pups. They’re born!”

  She turned, and she and Sweet bounded toward the den together. As they reached it, Fiery was just emerging, the strain on his blunt face still visible through the pride and pleasure.

  “Three fine pups,” he announced gruffly. “Two males and a female!”

  “Congratulations.”

  The drawling voice made every dog turn, as Alpha padded toward the den, his ears pricked in mild curiosity.

  “Thank you, Alpha,” Fiery dipped his head respectfully, but his tail still wagged with irrepressible happiness.

  “Three fine pups? That’s good news for the Pack.” That seemed to be the extent of Alpha’s interest, though, because he turned to Sweet and Snap, his face becoming grim. “You two, and Beta . . . come with me.”

  Her stomach heavy with foreboding, Sweet followed him, together with Snap and Beta. A rabbit-chase from the other dogs, Alpha turned and sat on his haunches, then stared at them each in turn.

  “How did coyotes get into this camp?” he asked. His tone was too quiet, too calm.

  Sweet opened her jaws to explain, but again Beta was too fast for her. “They got in from that direction,” said the red dog, jerking her muzzle toward Sweet’s patrol zone. “She was supposed to be guarding that spot, I think?”

  “I went to find Fiery!” Sweet looked desperately from Beta’s sly face to Alpha’s. “We all—the dogs who were here agreed that Moon needed her mate. I was the fastest!”

  “That’s no reason t
o abandon your post!” snapped Alpha.

  “But I didn’t! Beta said she’d cover for me!”

  “Liar.” Beta’s low snarl made Sweet’s blood run cold. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

  Sweet opened her jaws, but no sound would come out. Of course, if Beta had been lured away somehow—if she’d been distracted enough to allow the coyotes to breach their boundaries—she would want to play down her own mistake. But did she have to lie and blame everything on Sweet? Sweet’s nerves prickled with fear and disbelief.

  They’ll think I ran away—again. . . . It’s happening again! I’m the Dog Who Ran Away. . . .

  “But I didn’t!” she barked out loud in panic. “I didn’t run away!”

  “You two.” Alpha glared at Snap and Beta. “Leave us.”

  Snap shot Sweet a sympathetic look, but Beta’s eyes were cunning and vindictive as she slunk away. Sweet swallowed hard as their pawsteps faded into the trees. Then she turned, skin quivering, to face Alpha. His stern yellow stare was unnerving.

  “You’re putting me in a very difficult position, Sweet,” he growled softly. “Making these puppish errors.”

  “I’m sorry, Alpha. I misunderstood. I thought that Beta—”

  “You’re just getting used to Wild Pack life. . . .” He interrupted as if she hadn’t spoken. “So I have to make allowances. I won’t punish you as you should be punished. Not this time.”

  Sweet dipped her head. It was probably best to keep silent, she decided, though confusion and anger stirred in her gut.

  “Next time, you’ll find I’m not so understanding,” he growled silkily. “Tonight you’ll be on watch from dusk till sunup; I don’t care how tired you are. You will protect this Pack throughout the no-sun hours. Perhaps that will teach you Pack discipline.”

  Sweet watched the half wolf as he stalked away toward his den. A sense of injustice roiled in her belly, but there was something else, too.

  She knew Alpha expected her to be grateful for his mercy, but she wasn’t. All she felt was resentment, and a deep, gnawing suspicion.